


What You Want

by TheRaven



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Gun Kink, Gun play, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 11:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3288431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRaven/pseuds/TheRaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond shows up at Q's door after a mission, looking to unwind. And when Q finds a gun he didn't assign to Bond in his clothes, things get interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Want

Everything, for once, had gone smoothly. Bond had survived the mission with minimal injury—for him, at any rate—and the target had been taken out successfully. All told, things had gone swimmingly. But Bond was the kind of man who needed a bit of unwinding after a mission, no matter how well it had gone, and so he found himself at the door of Q's flat shortly after one in the morning, a bit worse for wear and very tense.

Q answered the door looking pleasantly rumpled, obviously roused from sleep. Still, he ushered Bond in, taking his coat and sighing at the state of his clothes. He hadn't changed since returning, and there was still blood on his shirt and suit jacket from where he'd been stabbed. Not deep, not deep at all, but enough to make a substantial mess. Q made a quiet comment that he'd better not bleed all over his floor or furniture, but Bond just snorted and took the cup of tea Q offered him.

“So,” Q said when they were sat at the small kitchen table, each with their cup of tea, “I suppose I know what brings you here tonight?”

“I am a bit predictable when it comes to you,” Bond said, in what passed for a fond tone of voice.

“You know you'll have to clean yourself up first if you want in my bed,” Q said briskly. “You have permission to use whatever you need in the bathroom.”

“Thank you very much, Mother,” Bond grumbled, but he didn't protest.

He just got up, leaving his tea on the table, and headed down the hall to the bathroom, stripping off his clothes and weapons along the way. Q would collect them, he knew, and probably leave them in a neat little pile for him on a chair in the bedroom. He was just organized like that, always putting things in their proper places. Bond stepped into the shower, noting the toiletries arranged by height in a little bin, and gave them a faint smile.

Honestly, he half-expected Q to join him, but he must have had other plans. So Bond washed himself quickly, efficiently, and turned off the taps, stepping out of the shower and drying himself off, again, as quickly and efficiently as he could. He wrapped a towel around himself, even though he didn't really need to, and left the bathroom in search of Q.

He found him in the bedroom, lying naked on the bed and not paying the slightest bit of attention to him as he entered the room. Instead, he was focused on the handgun in his hands, which he had obviously taken from Bond's discarded effects. Bond cleared his throat when he reached the bed, and Q finally looked up at him, smirking.

“Beretta 92FS...M9,” he said, turning the gun over in his hand. “Naughty, naughty, Bond. Carrying a weapon not coded to your palm print.”

“Never know when your technological advancements are going to cock up,” Bond said with a shrug. “I like to have another weapon, just in case.”

“And what if someone were to take it from you?” Q asked. “They could kill you with your own weapon.”

He leveled the gun at Bond's chest, watching his reaction. Which was immediate, and very visible. Dilated pupils, increased heart rate, mild stirring in his loins. Q smiled and lowered the gun, which, Bond noticed belatedly, still had the safety on. He beckoned Bond over, and Bond removed the towel around his waist, folding it neatly and setting it next to the bed on the floor, just as Q would want him to, before he climbed onto the bed.

“You like this, don't you?” Q asked idly, examining the gun further. “Me with a gun.”

“Very much so,” Bond replied. “But do you know how to shoot it?”

Q gave him a disgusted look.

“Of course I do,” he said. “One always has to be prepared for any possibility.”

“Including one in which you have to shoot a gun.”

“Especially one in which I have to shoot a gun.”

Q caressed the barrel of the gun, again not paying any attention to Bond. Or appearing not to; his smirk grew as Bond's breathing quickened. But he needed permission, needed to know what Q wanted of him, and Q was apparently going to deny him as long as possible. So he remained kneeling at Q's feet, waiting, while Q's fingers moved over the barrel like it was his cock and not cold, unyielding metal.

“What do you want?” Q asked after what felt like an eternity but was probably really only a few minutes.

“You,” Bond said simply.

“What else?” Q asked.

“I want you holding that gun,” Bond said. “It's loaded, you know.”

“I can tell,” Q said. “Even if I hadn't taken it apart while you were washing yourself, it would have been obvious.”

“I suppose it would have been.” Bond watched Q stroke the barrel of the gun, helpless to stifle the reaction it was eliciting from him. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to prepare yourself,” Q said, ever the blunt one. “Quickly.”

He broke from his ministrations long enough to fish a bottle of lubricant out of the bedside table and toss it to him. Bond nodded and positioned himself for better access before he spread an ample amount of the lubricant on his fingers. He knew Q liked to watch him, so he made sure he had a good view as he circled his hole with his index finger before slowly, methodically pushing it in to the first knuckle, then the second. He'd done this enough times that it was fairly easy to relax his body, but that first intrusion always threw him a little. Sure, he could relax, but it was a strange feeling nonetheless.

“I said quickly,” Q said when the first finger was completely in. “I don't want to hurt you, but I am feeling rather impatient tonight. You did wake me up, after all, and I'd like to get some sleep tonight.”

Bond nodded and focused on being as efficient as possible. He pulled the finger out, then worked the tips of two into himself. The stretch was slightly uncomfortable, but he didn't mind. He just carefully slid the fingers into his hole, scissoring them when they were in far enough, and fucked himself on them for half a minute or so before he pulled them out and started to work a third finger in.

He looked up at Q, who was watching him intently, hands stilled. Q was mostly-hard already, though as far as Bond knew, he hadn't touched himself yet. That he had such an effect on the man was more than a little intoxicating, but Bond only permitted himself a single moment to relish it before he went back to his work. Three fingers in, all the way in, and the stretch wasn't too uncomfortable anymore. He withdrew his fingers, wiped them on the towel next to the bed, and waited for further instruction.

“Come here,” Q said, moving to the side and patting the mattress next to him. “On your back. I want to see you.”

Bond nodded and complied immediately, propping up his hips on a pillow to give Q better access to his hole. Q smiled and used the muzzle of the gun to trace patterns on Bond's chest and stomach, the metal cold and hard against his skin. Bond needed more, but Q would only give it when he was good and ready, so he didn't bother to ask him to get on with it. Q must have known what he was thinking, too, because the smile turned to a smirk, and he pressed the muzzle of the gun into the hollow of Bond's throat and flicked the safety off.

“Fine,” he said, taking his finger off the trigger and moving into position between Bond's legs. “I suppose I can give you what you need now.”

He guided his cock into him, one long, smooth movement that had Bond's breathing hitch and his eyes flutter closed briefly before he regained control and put his hands on Q's hips. Q looked like he wanted to bat them away, but he allowed them to remain where they were, and he waited for Bond's breathing to slow before he started to move, all the while pressing the gun to his flesh.

“I need—“ Bond started, feeling the gun move with his throat, but he wasn't entirely sure how to finish that statement.

“I know,” Q said. “Be patient.”

He started up a slow, agonizing rhythm, trailing the gun down his chest and pressing the muzzle to where his heart beat frantically against his ribs. With the safety off, the only thing preventing Q from killing him right there was the trigger, on which Q's finger lightly rested. Q watched him, glasses immaculately clean and reflecting the low light as he moved. His expression was unreadable, but Bond was used to that. Q rarely gave away his true feelings, even in situations as intimate as this. He moved the gun upwards, pressing it into the hollow of Bond's jaw, and smiled.

“You really like this, don't you?” he said, almost teasingly. “I could blow your head off anytime I choose to, and it just makes your cock harder. I can't say I'm surprised, but really, Bond, this is a bit extreme, even for you.”

“You know you love the power I'm giving you,” Bond replied with some difficulty. “Don't pretend you're just doing this to please me.”

“Oh, no, I quite like the power,” Q said with a small laugh. “I just wonder where your head is at, that's all. Why you get so much enjoyment out of this.”

“You can analyze me later,” Bond grunted. “Fuck me now, if you please.”

Q laughed again and picked up the pace, making the bed shudder with every thrust. Bond liked it hard and fast, enough that he would feel it for days, and that was what Q gave him. He threw his head back with a moan, and Q pressed the gun into his flesh, keeping his head pinned and rendering him unable to look at Q properly. It was, quite frankly, terribly thrilling.

“I'm going to remove the gun now,” Q said a few minutes later, “and I want you to open your mouth for me. You can handle that, yes?”

“Yes,” Bond managed to choke out.

“Good,” Q said, and he withdrew the gun from his throat.

Bond wanted to make some quip at him but he knew it would only result in unpleasant things, so instead, he just opened his mouth as instructed. Q smiled serenely at him and brought the gun to his lips, nudging his mouth open further and pausing in his thrusts until Bond complied. And, with a gentle click of metal on teeth, he slid the barrel of the gun into his mouth.

Bond moaned in spite of himself as the metal filled his mouth and nudged against the back of his throat. Q thrusted, hard and fast, into him, and slowly slid the barrel of the gun in and out of his mouth. Bond’s breathing grew ragged, almost pained, and Q’s smile widened. It wouldn’t be long now, and both of them knew it. Q lowered his head to mouth at Bond’s throat, and just as he sank his teeth into the tender flesh, he removed the gun from Bond’s mouth.

Bond cursed, loudly, at the sudden pain. Q laughed and pressed the gun to his temple, moving to grasp Bond’s cock for the first time. Bond groaned.

“You are so predictable,” Q said with a chuckle.

“Fuck me,” Bond growled.

“Of course,” Q replied, and complied with vigor.

Bond closed his eyes, feeling the warm metal against his temple and listening to Q’s light, quick breathing. Orgasm built low in his stomach, hot and fast, and he came with a howl that stopped Q’s breath cold, and, when his eyes flickered open again, he saw Q’s mouth hanging open and his eyes half-closed as Bond’s body spasmed around his cock.

It wasn’t enough to get Q off, of course. He needed just that littlest of pushes to get over the edge, and Bond knew just how to give it to him.

“Pull the trigger,” Bond said, knowing full-well by the weight of it that the gun was still loaded.

Q’s eyes closed completely, and he dropped the gun to the side as his body trembled with orgasm. His head came down again, and he bit hard into Bond’s collarbone as he spilled into his body. The mark would be easier to cover than the one on the side of his throat, but Bond wasn’t overly concerned with that at the moment. Right now, he wanted to feel everything Q was giving him, the heaving breath and the feeling of loss as Q pulled his softening cock out of him.

“One day, I’m going to pull that trigger,” Q said quietly when he collapsed against him and nuzzled into his slick hair.

“I look forward to it,” Bond said, and he wasn’t sure if he was joking.

“Next time, I might choke you,” Q said absently. “You would look beautiful turning blue.”

“Anything,” Bond breathed.

Q laughed.

“You’re a reckless man, Bond,” he said.

“Always,” Bond replied.

He heard the click of the safety going back on, and Q settled against him to sleep.


End file.
